Go for it. "What have you seen?" inquired Lady Trafford. ‘You heard Gosse—I mean, the man you know as Valade?’ ‘Clear as day, miss,’ he uttered. The winters were bitter here, they could have just as easily been frozen off. She would never look squarely at these dream forms that mocked the social order in which she lived, never admit she listened to the soft whisperings in her ear. All the village was assembled in the churchyard.
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